


Destiel vs. Stucky: It's A Wonderful Life

by elliex



Series: Destiel vs. Stucky [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Family Bonding, Finally Some Happy Times For These Weary Men, Fluff and happiness, Holiday Cheer, M/M, Mostly Gen Fluff w/ a side of explicitness, My knowledge of CATWS comes from the films, The Griswold Effect, decorations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliex/pseuds/elliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alt titles:<br/>Whose Christmas Spirit is the Biggest?<br/>To Griswold or Not to Griswold?</p><p>Dean is excited to decorate for Christmas - so much so that he starts before Thanksgiving! Imagine his dismay when he learns that James has his own legendary Christmas display...</p><p>And thus begins an epic competition to out-Griswold each other. </p><p>How will Sam, Castiel, and Steve cope? </p><p>One runs and the other two get ... creative. It all works out in the end.</p><p>Note: This is part of my Destiel vs. Stucky series, but I think it can read as a standalone. All you need to know is that the Winchesters (under the pretense of going undercover for a case that's vaguely referenced in Part I) have moved into the neighborhood where Steve and Bucky (James to everyone else) live. Dean and Bucky rub each other the wrong way from the beginning & competition/rivalry ensued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiel vs. Stucky: It's A Wonderful Life

+

 

The first Saturday in November, Bucky wakes early. He pulls himself from the warmth of Steve’s arms and dresses quickly. He has a lot to do today.

 

In the blue-gray dawn light, he discards the remnants of Halloween festivities: He gathers up the three jack-o-lanterns (one funny, one scary, and one that looks like Iron Man) and tosses them on the compost pile. He dumps the remains of the hay bale they’d sat on there too.

 

After he carefully sweeps the porch and walkway, he retrieves the leaf blower from the shed. The scattered, crunchy leaves covering the lawn might add to Halloween décor, but they’ve no place in his Christmas scheme. He carefully fills the fuel chamber, and he does consider the earliness of the hour as he takes position.

 

Bucky takes a look at the sky and sees that the sun is fully up over the horizon. He shrugs. “Good enough,” he mutters, switching the blower on. Its low buzz fills the air, and Bucky moves purposefully, making short work of the job. He’s glad that, until two weeks before Halloween, he’d kept up with the leaf-gathering; otherwise, this would be taking much too long.

 

Once the yard’s clear and the leaves are bagged for pick-up, Bucky returns the leaf blower to its shelf in the shed. He slips off his outdoor boots, leaving them on the sisal rug Steve keeps for just that purpose at the back door, and heads inside.

 

He checks his watch and is happy to see it’s not quite 7 am. He’s got plenty of time.

 

+

 

“Don’t you want breakfast? Most important meal of the day?,” Steve calls out in a lilting voice. He grins when the only response is the thud of the attic ladder hitting the floor. The hit isn’t as sharp as it might be, and Steve knows that Bucky made sure to put a rug down first. That careful attention twists something warm in Steve’s chest, and it’s all he can do not to climb up in the attic after his partner.

 

The sounds of boxes shoving and scraping against the floor deter him, though. He’s learned the hard way not to get between Bucky and his Christmas extravaganza.

 

“You know, I just don’t think home-brew is going to do the trick today,” he says to himself, setting the empty carafe back in the coffeemaker. He surveys his outfit – flip-flops, pajama bottoms, a tee – and decides that he’s presentable enough, though he does throw on a jacket. It _is_ November, after all.

 

Car keys in hand, he heads out. Castiel is running past the house, and Steve waves. He likes the Winchesters. He’d realized pretty quickly that they weren’t Hydra or SHIELD, and when he found out what they _were_ – well, that meta moment is one he’ll never forget.

 

“Hello, Steve,” Castiel calls out. He halts his progress, running in place as Steve walks towards him.

 

“Hey, Cas,” Steve says. “You’re up early – did Bucky wake you?” He gestures at the now leaf-free lawn.

 

Castiel shakes his head. “No, today’s just going to be busy. Dean has his heart set on decorating for Christmas – it’s the first time he’s ever been able to – and I knew if I didn’t run now, I wouldn’t get to.”

 

Steve laughs. “Oh, man. Dean’s one, too?” At Castiel’s puzzled expression, Steve shakes his head and gestures towards the top floor, where a light shines through the topmost dormer window. “See that?”

 

Castiel nods.

 

“That’s Bucky – I mean, James. He’s already digging out our decorations.”

 

Castiel grins. “Oh, this could get interesting.”

 

“Right?,” Steve asks. “This may actually beat the ‘who can carry the most artillery’ contest they had last week.”

 

( _That_ competition had led to an awkward moment at the local pizza place, where the two couples had met up, sans Sam who was visiting Jody, but neither Dean nor James could sit for the knives and guns hidden under their clothes. Steve and Castiel had sent their unrepentantly peacocking partners home and gotten the pizza to go. Amazingly, by the time they arrived at Steve’s house with the pies in hand, Dean and James were playing Xbox – still armed, still standing, but also playing.)

 

Castiel laughs. “At least this gives less opportunity for bloodshed.”

 

“Let’s hope,” Steve says.

 

“Though I daresay we’ll be lucky if they don’t blow out the town’s power grid,” Cas muses.

 

Steve thinks Castiel is probably right. “Well, I say we declare ourselves Switzerland, sit back, and enjoy the sights while those two knock themselves out.” He extends a hand.

 

“That works for me,” Cas says, taking it. They shake and seal their deal.

 

+

 

By the time Steve returns with coffee and donuts, boxes are stacked all over the downstairs. Buck’s carefully making his way down the ladder, his arms full of garland, and when Steve sees the dust bunnies clinging to his partner’s ponytail, he smiles.

 

“You got everything, babe?,” Steve asks.

 

“Nah, I’m good,” Bucky answers.

 

“You sure? I’ve brought sustenance.”

 

“Well that changes things,” Bucky says, his voice teasing. He drops the garland into a heap on the floor and walks to Steve. He kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth and takes the proffered coffee. Steve reaches for his tied-back hair, and Bucky swats his hand away, saving the dust bunnies. Steve thinks that probably shouldn’t be as adorable as it is.

 

Bucky takes a sip of coffee and sighs appreciatively. “Thanks. No time to eat, though.”

 

“Nuh-uh,” Steve answers, reaching for the front of Bucky’s tee and pulling him close. “You need to carb load.” With his free hand, he grabs a classic glazed donut, still warm from the bakery’s ovens, and feeds it to his suddenly-not-so-reluctant-to-eat partner. Bucky may or may not spend as much time sucking on Steve’s fingers as he does eating, but Steve’s okay with that.

 

When Bucky kisses Steve goodbye, his lips taste of sugar. Steve smiles and begins to hum as he prepares for lunch. His guy’s going to need fuel today; Steve will make sure he gets it.

 

+

 

Bucky surveys the outside of the house with tactical intent. He clearly remembers what worked last year, what didn’t, and he has plans for what he’s going to add.

 

He walks around the perimeter of the yard once more, making careful calculations.

 

Then, he gets started.

 

+

 

When Castiel comes in from his run, the house smells of percolating coffee. The reverberating sound of slammed drawers echoes from their bedroom, so Cas heads there first, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

 

“Dean, are you okay?,” he asks.

 

“Peachy,” Dean snaps without looking up. He’s digging frantically through drawers, slamming each as he doesn’t find whatever he’s looking for. “Sam won’t hurry up; you’re off running – does no one want to decorate but me?”

 

Cas walks up behind Dean and grasps his shoulders. “Stop, Dean. What are you looking for?”

 

Dean sighs. “My long-sleeved AC/DC shirt. I can’t find it any—”

 

Cas steps to Dean’s side so that his shirt’s visible in the bureau mirror. “Oh.” Dean turns to him, his eyes sweeping Cas from head to foot. Castiel’s face flushes. “Looks good on you, at least.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says. “I should’ve asked first.”

 

Dean shakes his head, reaching for Cas’s hand and pulling him close. “Dean, I’m sweaty, and I stink,” Castiel warns. Dean only smiles before burying his face in the juncture of Cas’s neck and wrapping strong arms around him.

 

“Never,” he declares, his voice muffled against Cas’s skin. He kisses Cas’s neck, working his way up, and Castiel melts into him.

 

This is how it is between them now. Castiel doesn’t understand how they’ve gotten so lucky, but he’s grateful for every precious moment they have.

 

When they break apart, Cas runs a loving hand through Dean’s mussed hair. “We _do_ want to help you decorate, Dean.” He gestures towards the hall, where the sounds of running water have ceased. “It sounds like Sam’s done in his bathroom. Why don’t you finish dressing and make us breakfast? I’ll shower quickly; we’ll eat; and then we’ll go shopping for whatever we need.”

 

“Really?” The light in Dean’s eyes makes Castiel’s heart twist. Not for the first time, he wants to ask John Winchester why he never made sure his boys had real Christmases. But Dean is under Castiel’s protection now, and Cas is doing all he can to make up for the shortfalls of the past.

 

Cas kisses Dean gently. “Really,” he promises. He swats Dean on the butt, eliciting a surprised yelp, and grins. “Better hurry, though. Steve and James are putting up their decorations, too.”

 

Dean freezes, and his eyebrow arches. “Oh?” His gaze turns calculating, and whatever he’s thinking of has him staring off into space. Cas sighs, knowing he’s lost him to decoration machinations – and the desire to outdo James.

 

Cas shakes his head and heads into their bathroom. To his dismay, he finds out Sam _did_ take forever; there’s not a drop of hot water left. He makes a mental note to ask Dean about installing a higher capacity water heater.

 

+

 

Three hours later, Castiel, Dean, and Sam return from their shopping extravaganza significantly poorer. (Or, rather, Mark Peters of Petersburg, Florida, is significantly poorer). They’ve loaded up on groceries, some items for the house, and all the decorations that Dean’s deemed necessary.

 

That haul includes lights upon lights – white, LED, multi-color – in both strings and nets. There are garlands, a herd of yard reindeer, and a seven-foot fir that’s strapped to the top of the Impala. There’s other stuff that Dean slipped past Castiel and Sam, too, but they’d decided after the fracas in Target to let Dean get whatever else he wanted (within reason).

 

“He’s like a kid in a candy store,” Sam had complained.

 

Cas had nodded, watching Dean zip the buggy through overcrowded and overstuffed aisles, nabbing shatterproof ornament balls the size of basketballs and twinkly lights marked half off.

 

“Did you decorate for the holidays when you were with Jess or Amelia?,” Cas had asked.

 

Sam had thought for a second. “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t have much stuff, but they did. I helped.” He’d smiled at the memories. “It was fun.”

 

“Dean’s never had that – not as an adult,” Cas had reminded him soberly. “He and Lisa had a holiday together, but he was mourning you and didn’t really participate in the festivities.” Cas had watched as Dean discovered ball lights to hang in the trees and smiled when his partner’s face lit up brighter than the display. “In many ways, Dean _is_ like a kid in a candy store,” he’d observed.

 

Sam had looked stricken and swallowed hard. “I guess I never thought of it like that.”

 

Castiel had nodded somberly, and then tilted his head, bemused, when he saw Dean talking to an associate while pointing emphatically at a gigantic hot air Santa Claus. “However,” Castiel had amended. “We may have to discuss some limitations.” He’d pointed; Sam had turned, seen what Dean was angling for, and laughed so hard that onlookers began to stare.

 

Cas had left Sam doubled-over and made his way towards Dean. What had followed was a loving yet ineffectual conversation about ornament selection. Castiel had finally resorted to a low trick – telling Dean that the Claus’s face reminded him of an angelic sibling – to get Dean to change his mind.

 

It had taken a double order of nachos with extra cheese and a cherry slurpee (and Cas’s whispered promise of a blowjob) to get Dean to stop pouting.

 

Now, Dean pulls out the papers he had consulted throughout the store. ( _Maybe_ he’d made some extra notations when they’d gotten home, and he’d seen what James’s layout was looking like, but so what? Right?)

 

“See, this is the plan,” Dean announces, spreading them across the table. Castiel is in awe, though he realizes that he should’ve expected this attention to detail.

 

Dean has planned out the entire yard’s scheme, as well as the house’s. He doles out decorating duties to Sam and Castiel, then grabs his own armful of lights and heads for the roof.

 

“Please be careful,” Cas calls out. “Remember I can’t heal you now!”

 

Dean waves him off. “No worries, Cas. Now, get cracking with that wreath and make sure we don’t accidentally call any fudging gods, okay? And Sammy, you set up the tree.”

 

Cas and Sam salute Dean and then each other. With wide grins, they get to work.

 

+

 

Sam sets up the tree near the double front windows, and he strings the lights, too. It takes a couple of hours to get everything ready and the room re-arranged, and Sam flops onto the sofa to admire his work.

 

Bing Crosby is crooning about white Christmases on the stereo system, and Castiel is in the kitchen making dinner. It smells like chicken, and Sam hopes they’re having the roast chicken because Castiel’s always tastes _amazing_.

 

A rap at the window startles Sam. “Hey!,” Dean yells, motioning for Sam to come outside. “It’s done. Y’all c’mon.”

 

“Hey, Cas,” Sam calls, projecting his voice towards the kitchen. “Dean’s finally ready for us.”

 

“Just a minute,” Cas calls back. Sam hears the oven door shut, and then Castiel is in the living room, and they’re shrugging into their coats and heading outside.

 

It’s been a cloudy day, and the dusky light bathes the world in a blue-grey light. Sam blinks a couple times, as if that will help his vision. He looks over at his brother, who’s sitting on the wicker settee and grinning.

 

“Well? Where are the lights?”

 

“I was just waiting on you two,” Dean answers. He points. “Y’all go stand out in the road.”

 

“Won’t you miss the big reveal?,” Cas asks.

 

“I’ve already seen it. And it looks _fantastic._ ”

 

Sam huffs a laugh as he and Cas walk down the sidewalk. Fresh garland is hung along the porch rails; the wreath Cas assembled hangs at the door; there are even poinsettias adorning the tables and plant stands that the porch has acquired since they moved in.

 

They get to the edge of their quiet street and take position.

 

“Ready?” Dean calls out.

 

Sam waves at him. “Bring it,” he yells.

 

Dean flips a switch or something and the house blazes to life. Sam blinks and takes a step back. Castiel stares, wide-eyed.

 

“Wow,” Sam says.

 

“Wow is right,” Cas echoes.

 

Dean strides towards them, grinning. “What do you think?”

 

“It’s amazing,” Sam says, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

Castiel’s eyes shine so with pride and love that Sam looks away in order to give them a moment. (The macking sounds he hears a half-second later confirm that he made a wise decision.)

 

While his brothers make out in the middle of the street, Sam enjoys the Christmas tableau laid before him: The garland twinkles with white lights; the bushes sparkle with netted lights of various colors; the entire house is outlined, and special dangling lights hang from the eaves. The reindeer herd is artfully arranged among the small copse of trees that border the far side of the property, and Dean’s draped lights on those trees too. The grapevine light balls that Sam had laughed at in the store hang from the large oak in the front yard, and they really are beautiful.

 

“This is amazing,” Sam repeats.

 

Dean slaps him on the back. “Isn’t it? We still have to make up the popcorn strands and birdseed bells for the outdoor trees’ ornaments, but I think it’s pretty much don—”

 

Before Dean can finish that last word, light blasts out along the street a few houses down. “What the hell?,” Dean asks, craning his neck to see.

 

He doesn’t have to crane far, and Sam cranes even less. James has just turned on the lights at his house.

 

“That sonofabitch,” Dean mutters, glaring at the extravaganza a few doors down.

 

Castiel shoots Sam a look, and he knows immediately what to do: “I think their house looks nice,” Sam says. “And just think – now the neighborhood has _two_ awesomely decorated homes to see.”

 

“That’s right,” Cas agrees. He mouths “thank you,” and Sam nods in turn. Dean smiles well enough and returns Steve and James’s happy waves, but Sam knows his brother: The war is on.

 

Sam watches Dean carefully. These days, his brother is very tactile with Castiel. Even if Sam hadn’t come home to clothes strewn from the front door to Dean and Castiel’s bedroom weeks ago, he would have realized the new truth between them – because things between the two have been _different_.

 

It’s been in the little touches – the ones that Sam had already known they’d denied themselves for far too long: Dean resting his hand on the small of Castiel’s back; Cas running his fingers along Dean’s shoulders; each of them touching the other’s faces just because.

 

All in all, it’s really quite sweet, though Sam can forever do without finding either’s boxer briefs on the stairs again. Tonight, he watches as Dean walks several feet ahead of them into the house, his strides purposeful, his hands clenched.

 

Sam walks beside Castiel instead of Dean, and he hates to see his friend’s furrowed brow. “We tried,” he murmurs to Cas, slowing his pace to put extra distance between them and Dean, who’s already in the house.

 

Cas sighs and slows his pace to match Sam’s. “We did.”

 

“Think this means the tree-trimming party’s off?”

 

Cas looks mournful. “I hope not, but…” He trails off and shrugs. _Who knows?_ Sam nods with complete understanding. Dean’s been a changed man lately, but James pushes his competitive buttons.

 

Just then, Dean sticks his head out of the door. “You slowpokes coming or not? We’ve got a tree to decorate.”

 

“Well, guess that answers that,” Sam says. He grins at Cas, who grins back. “Hey, did you make roast chicken?”

 

“I did,” Cas answers. “I know it’s your favorite.”

 

Sam slings an arm around Cas’s shoulders as they walk into the house and kisses him on top of the head. “God, I love you,” he exclaims.

 

“Hey, hey,” Dean says. “Hands off my man.”

 

Sam raises a challenging eyebrow but is unprepared for the flying sofa cushion that whacks him in the face. Dean’s cackling fills the room.

 

Castiel pats Sam’s hand and slips out from under his one-armed embrace. “You two are ridiculous,” he calls out, continuing on towards the kitchen. “Dinner’s in ten minutes.”

 

Sam picks the cushion up and lobs it back at Dean, who – of course – catches it. Sam sees the light in his brother’s eyes, the lines in his face that have been caused more by laughing than grieving lately. Witnessing these changes have done Sam’s heart good.

 

Still, he asks, “You alright?” He takes off his coat and hangs it neatly on the rack. His is the only one there.

 

“Huh?,” Dean asks, looking up from the ornaments he’s freeing from environmentally unfriendly packaging. “Oh, uh – yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

Sam inclines his head towards the door in answer and retrieves Dean and Cas’s coats from where they’ve been discarded; he hangs them neatly too. He likes having a coat rack and seeing their things on it – makes the place feel more like a home.

 

“Oh,” Dean says. He shrugs, added the now-unencumbered Star Trek figurines he’d insisted upon to the growing eclectic pile on the coffee table. He rips the lid off the box of glass blue balls that he and Sam had both snickered over in the store. (Sam represses a snicker even now.) “Don’t worry about it. I’m good. Just got to regroup.”

 

“Regroup?”

 

“Hell yeah. No way is that silver-armed bastard out-Griswolding us.”

 

Sam scrutinizes Dean until his brother rolls his eyes. “Seriously, dude, I’m fine,” Dean protests.

 

Sam huffs a laugh. “Well, you’d better be extra nice to Cas or else you’re gonna find yourself on the couch.”

 

Dean looks puzzled. “What?”

 

“You looked pretty pissed out there. You two had been all lovey-dovey –“

 

“We were _not_ ,” Dean denies.

 

“You _were_ ,” Sam insists. “And then you just went all cold and walked away…”

 

Dean stares at Sam in horror. “Oh, shit. I did, didn’t I?”

 

“Yep.” Sam gives Dean the ‘ _Now what are you going to do about that’_ look that he’s waited nearly eight freaking years to use.

 

Dean thinks for a second before he grins devilishly. “I know just what to do,” he says, heading towards the way Cas had gone. “Um. You might not want to come into the kitchen for a while.”

 

Sam shakes his head. “No way, dude. Cas made roast chicken. You get ten minutes, and then I’m coming in there.”

 

“Fifteen.”

 

“Ten.”

 

Dean sighs. “Fine. Ten.” He waggles his eyebrows. “I can do a lot in ten.”

 

“Oh my god,” Sam groans. He gets to his feet and grabs his coat. “I’m going for a precisely ten-minute walk. You fuckers better be clothed when I get back.”

 

(They won’t be.)

 

(While carefully averting his eyes and humming loudly to himself, Sam will help himself to a plate of roast chicken despite the naked cavorting. He’ll happily eat his tasty chicken in front of the TV with the volume cranked as high as it will go.)

 

+

 

When Steve sees the Winchesters’ house come to life, he grins. Dean’s hard work (and Sam and Cas’s too, Steve’s sure) has paid off.

 

Bucky sees the illuminated home, but his only acknowledgement is a grunt. Steve shakes his head and isn’t surprised when Bucky grabs his hand, tugging him into the road.

 

“How are you going to turn everything on from here?,” Steve asks.

 

Bucky holds up a contraption and grins. “You stole that from Tony, didn’t you?,” Steve asks with a sigh.

 

Bucky shrugs. “Jarvis told me I could borrow it.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes, knowing that little ends well when Tony’s toys are messed with.

 

Bucky presses a few buttons and – voilà! – their corner of the neighborhood becomes a beacon of light.

 

“I’m so proud of you, Babe,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist. “You really outdid yourself this year.”

 

The house really is a work of art – Bucky has meticulously outlined the entire house, including every odd angle and row of shingles, with carefully positioned lights. The bushes and trees are wrapped and netted, and the sidewalk is lined with sparkling candy canes that, if Steve’s not mistaken, are vibrating in unison to the Christmas music playing from speakers strategically placed along the porch.

 

“Music?,” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

 

Bucky shrugs. “Last minute decision. That’s why I wasn’t ready right at dusk.” Bucky glares down the street, though he waves friendly enough. Steve waves at the Winchesters too, though he notices Dean’s ramrod-straight back and knows this latest competition isn’t over.

 

Steve sighs. “Something wrong?,” Bucky asks. He casts an alarmed look at the yard. “What did I forget?”

 

“Nothing, babe,” Steve says, kissing him on the temple. “It’s perfect. _You’re_ perfect,” he emphasizes.

 

Bucky’s arm wraps around Steve’s waist, his head on Steve’s shoulder. They stand in the darkening evening for a long moment – the kind that Steve treasures.

 

The moment’s broken when Bucky straightens and announces, “We need some garland on the porch columns. And maybe some of those spinny lights along the back fence?” He nods in agreement with himself. “Want to go to the store?”

 

“Now?,” Steve asks in disbelief.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“What about decorating our tree? We _always_ do that together.” Steve can’t help feeling hurt that Bucky would forget that. It must show on his face because Bucky takes his face in his hands and gently kisses him.

 

“I’m sorry, babe,” he murmurs. “Shopping can wait. Let’s go decorate our tree.”

 

Steve nods, and he knows his expression belies his relief when Bucky quirks an apologetic smile and reaches for his hand.

 

Steve lets Bucky lace their fingers together and, hand-in-hand, they head up the walkway. As they go up the porch stairs, Bucky casts a dark look back towards the Winchesters’. “But in the morning…”

 

Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand. “In the morning,” he agrees. He knows it’s pointless to do anything else.

 

+

 

The next morning, Castiel wakes to an empty bed. He dresses warmly for his run and goes outside to stretch and warm up. A few houses down, Steve is doing the same.

 

As Castiel jogs past, Steve motions to join him. "Sure," Cas says.

 

“Where to?," Steve asks.

 

“South, to the covered bridge and back – puts us at about—”

 

“Five miles round trip,” Steve finishes. “I like that route. I’m in.”

 

They set a comfortable pace and run in companionable silence. Cas enjoys watching the world shake off what's left of the night and come to life under the dawning sun, and he’s grateful that Steve seems to enjoy a quiet run, too.

 

This morning, though, Cas is too preoccupied to notice the cardinals sitting along Mrs. Potter’s fence or the squirrels chasing one another across Mr. Simmons’s field.

 

Castiel loves the look of their house now, but he’s positive that Dean’s at the store loading up on more decorations. For the first time since they moved here, Dean has apparently gotten up before dawn and gone on his way alone. That alone tells Castiel a lot about Dean’s determination to outdo James. Cas wonders exactly how far Dean will take this silly competition.

 

Steve’s arm shoots out in front of Cas like an iron bar, and both stumble to a sudden halt. “What is it?,” Cas asks, alarmed by Steve’s action and the sudden awareness that they’re already back on their street.

 

Steve stares straight ahead and doesn’t answer. It takes Castiel a second to realize that the target of Steve’s tunnel vision is his front yard.

 

Or, more specifically, it’s the man in his front yard who’s in the process of assembling a twelve-feet tall, lighted Christmas sculpture.

 

“Holy shit,” Steve says.

 

Cas looks past James to his own front yard. He can’t see it as well, but he _can_ see that the curbside mailbox has been draped in lights and that someone is tossing half-loops of lighted garland over the wooden fence that runs alongside their lot.

 

Steve turns and begins walking back towards the connecting road.

 

“Wait, where are you going?,” Cas calls out.

 

“Coffee shop. Maybe even the liquor store. I am not equipped to deal with all of _that_ ,” Steve answers, gesturing towards the competing yard displays.

 

Cas glances from James’s sculptural monstrosity to the quickly-growing lines of garland along the fence in his own yard. The decision is easy.

 

“Mind if I come with?”

 

+

 

They head west this time; Steve sets a brisk pace, and Cas easily keeps up.

 

Steve usually views the coffee shop, a small, standalone building surrounded by carefully cultivated gardens, as an oasis. Today, it has the added benefit of putting a mile or so between them and Christmas crazy land.

 

He comes to a stop outside the shop and does a few stretches; his muscles ache pleasantly. Cas follows suit, adding a few impressive yoga-esque bends to his routine. Steve makes a mental note to ask how to do those later; right now, his mind is on other things.

 

They go inside and order courtesy water. Steve’s grateful that’s store policy since neither he nor Cas has a wallet; he makes another mental note to tip extra well next time he’s in.

 

Cas nods towards a booth in the back. “You lead the way,” Steve says.

 

Once they get settled and down their waters, which the friendly barista then comes by and refills, Steve finally asks, “Can you believe those two?”

 

“Can you?,” Cas responds. He’s facing the door, and when his eyes widen, Steve turns to see what’s caught his attention. It’s Sam. The youngest Winchester doesn’t see them until after he places his order.

 

“Hey!,” he calls out, walking towards them. “I thought you’d be home by now,” Sam says, addressing Castiel.

 

“I should be,” Cas acknowledges, “but…”

 

“We were on the street and turned around,” Steve explains.

 

“So you saw, then?,” Sam asks.

 

“Yes,” Castiel says. Steve nods.

 

“It’s nuts,” Sam says. “Dean brought home _so much_ stuff – I don’t know where it’s all going to go. You’ve got to do something, Cas.”

 

“Me?,” Cas asks, surprised. “What can I do?”

 

“You know,” Sam says.

 

Cas gives Sam a quizzical look, and it’s all Steve can do not to laugh. Even he understands what Sam's getting at.

 

“Get. Creative.” Sam gives Cas a meaningful look. When Cas does seem to get it, his cheeks flush. “Finally,” Sam mutters before adding at his normal volume, "Do _whatever_ you have to – I’m heading for Jody’s for a few days, so no interruptions from me.”

 

“I – um… I see,” Cas stammers out. “I’ll do what I can, Sam.”

 

Sam grins and claps Cas on the back. “I know you will. Just never tell me about it.”

 

Steve looks at Castiel. “I agree. We need to undo our deal.”

 

“Deal?,” Sam asks.

 

“We were Switzerland, just enjoying them climbing up and down ladders and being their adorably obnoxious selves,” Steve explains.

 

Sam snorts. “Yeah, no. That’s over.”

 

“I agree,” Cas says. He chugs back his water as if it were whiskey. “And I have an idea. Sam – we need a ride and a credit card.”

 

“Done and done,” Sam says.

 

“Sam!,” the barista calls out.

 

“My java’s ready. You guys want to go now?”

 

Steve quirks an eyebrow at Castiel. “In a minute,” Castiel answers. “You get your coffee, and let me explain my plan to Steve. It’s… um… not one you’re going to want to know the details of.”

 

Sam throws his hands up. “Say no more. Really. I’ll be in my car when you’re ready.”

 

Castiel waits until Sam is at the counter before leaning forward and relaying his plan. It’s a good one, even if it leaves Steve with bright pink cheeks that match Castiel’s.

 

Steve is grateful Sam doesn’t ask questions, not when they get into the car with similarly flushed faces, nor when Castiel directs him to an adult store. He wishes Sam would wipe the smirk off his face when he drops them off at the end of their street, but Steve realizes that’s probably too much to ask.

 

That aside, he very much appreciates that Sam doesn’t ask what’s in the plastic bags.

 

+

 

Cas and Steve walk quietly up the street. Castiel feels like the unmarked bags from Forever Fantasies are a billboard broadcasting their intentions. He can only hope the nondescript, opaque brown bags aren’t well known among their neighbors.

 

They pause outside Steve’s yard, where a trio of gigantic singing Snowmen now adorn the center of the lawn.

 

“You sure about this?,” Steve asks, looking at the bag he holds in his hand.

 

“You know James the best,” Castiel replies. “Will he continue doing this” – Cas nods where James is perched precariously on the peak of the roof installing a Santa and his sled display – “while you are playing with _that_?”

 

Steve flushes. “Doubt it – or, at least, he’d better not.”

 

“Exactly,” Castiel says. “And I know Dean. By competing with their silly competition, we’re guaranteed to win.”

 

“Are we?”

 

“We’d better be,” Castiel says. Before, he might have wondered if he could ask that type of loyalty of Dean, but the way things have been between them… he thinks of last night in the kitchen… he feels certain that when Dean is thinking clearly, he will choose well.

 

Steve sticks out a hand. “Good luck,” he offers.

 

Castiel returns the firm shake. “And to you,” he says.

 

+

 

Cas takes stock of all the new additions – the mailbox lights, the garland, a cluster of giant spiral light trees, and lights outlining all of the windows – as he walks across his yard. He sees the pile of still-to-be-opened bags and boxes on the porch and resolves to end this all as quickly as possible.

 

Luck is on Cas’s side today, and he finds Dean in the kitchen, scarfing down a sandwich with a glass of milk.

 

“Where’ve you been?” Dean asks through a mouthful of food.

 

“I went for a run,” Cas answers, “and then I went shopping.” He sets his bag on the table.

 

Dean swallows and takes a swig of milk. “Oh yeah? Me too. Did you see all the stuff I—”

 

“Yes, Dean, I saw.” Cas interrupts, using a cooler tone than he usually does with Dean, and his partner notices.

 

“Hey, what gives? We were good last night…” Dean sets his sandwich and glass down on the counter and walks over to Castiel, grabbing Cas’s right hand and holding it between his own.

 

“What’s wrong, Cas?”

 

“The house looked beautiful last night, Dean, and everything looks good now, but aren’t you going a bit overboard?”

 

Dean’s eyebrows knit together. “Isn’t that the point of decorating?”

 

Cas shakes his head. “I don’t think so. How much did all of that cost you? Cost us?”

 

“Nothing,” Dean grins. “It cost Jeb Stevens an arm and a leg, though.”

 

Cas's lips compress into a thin line. “But – couldn’t we do something better with that money? Help those less fortunate? Make a difference?”

 

“We can still do that,” Dean promises. “But like I told Sam, I can’t let James out-Griswold me…”

 

“Why not?”

 

“B-Because,” he stammers. “I just can’t.”

 

“Okay,” Castiel says, his tone decisive.

 

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “You mean you’ll help me?,” he asks.

 

“In my own way,” Castiel answers. “You have your phone?”

 

Dean looses one hand from Castiel’s to tap his front jacket pocket. “Of course. Why?”

 

“Just make sure it’s on.” Castiel kisses Dean sweetly on the cheek. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

 

He pulls his hand from Dean’s and heads upstairs, the bag of goodies in hand.

 

+

 

Steve has time to prepare before he sees James. He showers, cleans (himself and the toys), and then gets into bed.

 

He and Bucky have a small collection of toys already. He chooses their favorites to complement the new vibrating dildo he’d purchased. He also bought a super fancy lube that promises to “blow your mind.”

 

Usually, Steve easily separates from whatever stress is in his life and focuses on Bucky and what they’re going to do together. Today, he can’t detach as quickly. It takes him several minutes to relax, let alone to start stroking himself and playing with his opening.

 

He props his ass on a flat pillow and braces his legs. He works himself open slowly, using lots of lube, and then he inserts the lubed vibrator, carefully working it inside of him. He arches when it brushes his prostate, and he grips his dick tightly. He’s nowhere near ready to come.

 

He breathes slowly and steadily and gets his bearings. He finishes placing the vibrator, though he doesn’t turn it on yet. Instead, he reaches for his phone and takes a carefully posed selfie that he sends directly to Bucky.

 

He hears something heavy fall on the roof and wonders if he should’ve given a warning. A minute later, Bucky’s at the window, fingers clinging to the top frame, toes braced on the windowsill.

 

“Jesus,” Steve complains. He gestures at his exposed body and yells, “Like what you see?”

 

Bucky’s eyes narrow and – _oh_. Steve knows that look. A tingle of anticipation runs up his spine.

 

Steve grins and holds up the remote. “Better hurry,” he yells, pressing a button. It’s the lowest setting, but Bucky doesn’t need to know that, and Steve arches his back and moans dramatically.

 

There’s a blur of movement outside the window, and a scrabbling sound echoes as Bucky makes his way down the side of the house. In a minute, the back door bangs open and is slammed shut, the latch loudly thrown. Quick footsteps move across the downstairs, and the front latch is thrown. Then the footsteps start up the stairs.

 

Bucky’s naked when he comes into the room, his eyes dark, his breathing rapid. Steve swallows hard, but he manages to croak out, “You chose then.”

 

Bucky’s eyes travel down Steve’s prone form. “Yeah,” he says.

 

Steve grins. “You sure you’re making the right choice?”

 

Bucky gets onto the bed, sliding a hand along Steve’s leg, running his fingers across the flared base of the dildo. Steve shudders, and Bucky smiles slowly, trailing nimble fingers across his balls and to the base of his extremely hard cock.

 

“When that choice is you?,” Bucky says, his voice low, husky. “Always.”

 

Bucky’s mouth claims his, and Steve knows they’re home.

 

+

 

Castiel showers quickly, taking care of himself and preparing his purchases. He and Dean don’t have much of a toy chest yet, but they’ve picked up a few things they enjoy. He’s pretty sure that Dean will like the new additions.

 

He hears hammering outside and wonders what Dean’s working on now. He pulls out new, blue silk panties that even he realizes match his eyes and slips them on, taking special care to tuck himself inside. He leaves the new green pair on the edge of the bed for Dean.

 

Castiel settles himself in the bed, with the other toys at the ready, and gets comfortable. He thinks of Dean’s soft lips and clever tongue as he strokes himself through the silk. When his cock strains against the silk, a wet spot showing on Cas’s skin where the head is peeking out, he grabs his phone and snaps the pic.

 

He leans against the pillows, eyes closed, and idly continues stroking with no real intent except to be ready for Dean. He does hope that Dean took his admonishment to not get hurt seriously.

 

Dean moves fast. Castiel hears the front door slam, the deadbolt click. There’s a repeat at the back door, and then Dean is taking the stairs two-at-a-time. Castiel smiles, but he still doesn’t open his eyes.

 

He hears Dean in the doorway, and still with his eyes closed, Cas points in the direction of the green panties. “Put those on,” he orders.

 

The sound of boots being kicked off and jeans hitting the floor tells Cas his orders are being followed. A few more swishes of fabric, and Castiel cracks an eye to see.

 

“Looks good,” he says. Dean’s not looking at himself, though – he’s looking at Castiel.

 

Dean gets onto the bed and crawls towards Castiel, bracketing the reclining man with his limbs. His eyes never leave Cas’s.

 

“Like what you see?,” Cas asks with a grin.

 

Dean nods, bending his head down to kiss Cas. Castiel can feel the difference in Dean’s touch, the awareness. The distraction, the drive, the whatever that’s been fueling this competition with James – It’s not here right now.

 

Castiel slides his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him closer until Dean settles on top of him, and their bodies are flush. Cas deepens the kiss, reveling in the taste and feel of Dean – _his_ Dean. They frot slowly, lazily, in a tangle of limbs until want consumes them both.

 

Later, when he slides inside of Dean, Castiel knows, again, that with each other, they’re home.

 

+

 

Sam stays at Jody’s for three days. It’s dusk when he drives down the street, and he sees Steve and James's house first, ablaze with holiday cheer. While the lights are dancing in unison, there’s no loud carols blasting, and those godawful snowmen are gone, as is the rooftop monstrosity. Sam breathes a sigh of relief.

 

He slows the car as he approaches his own house, nervous about what he might find. The fence garland has stayed, but the circular trees are gone, and the windows have also been un-outlined, a single faux candle now tastefully residing in each one. Nothing else has been added. “Oh, thank God,” Sam mutters, parking his car. He grabs his duffel and heads inside, remembering at the last second to ring the doorbell instead of using his key.

 

Dean lets him in, and unless Sam’s imagining things, Dean seems a little – sheepish?

 

“C’mon in,” Dean says. “We’re starting _It’s a Wonderful Life_.”

 

Sam drops his duffel and hangs his coat before claiming the armchair. He refuses to notice how gingerly Dean takes his place beside Cas or how both are sporting noticeable marks on their collarbones.

 

“Did you have a nice time with Jody?,” Castiel asks.

 

“Yeah,” Sam answers. He adjusts his collar so that his own marks aren’t noticeable. _That’s_ not a conversation he’s ready to have just yet. “She says hello, by the way.”

 

“She’s coming down for Christmas, isn’t she?,” Dean asks.

 

“Yeah, but she says we should get through Thanksgiving first before we send out invitations.”

 

Dean chuckles. “Heh, guess we did jump the gun.”

 

“We?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised.

 

“Okay, me,” Dean admits.

 

Castiel smiles and reaches for Dean’s hand, lacing their fingers together in a way that Sam finds adorably domestic.

 

“So, what happened to the trees and stuff?”

 

“Um…Cas convinced me to keep things more simple, to focus on the real reasons for the season and all that.”

 

Sam holds back a laugh because Dean _still_ isn’t telling him what he wants to know. Castiel offers the intel instead. “We returned what hadn’t been opened and took the extra decorations to the orphanage in the next county.”

 

Dean nods. “The kids loved them. We also – what’d they call it, Cas?”

 

“Adopted Angels,” Cas answers.

 

“Yeah, we adopted angels, so we’re buying those kids presents.”

 

Sam sits up; this is interesting. “Really?”

 

“We wanted to make sure they all had decent Christmases—“

 

“Wait. How many orphans are there?,” Sam asks.

 

“36,” Cas answers.

 

Sam tries to school his expression and fails miserably. “You’re buying presents for all of them?”

 

Cas shakes his head. “No, we’re buying presents for 18.”

 

“But the other 18,” Sam protests, “they can’t be left without gifts.” He feels sick at the very idea that some kids might be left out.

 

“They won’t, Sammy,” Dean assures him.

 

“Steve and James took the other 18,” Castiel explains.

 

“And Charlie’s helping all of us with internet coupons and info on great buys,” Dean adds. “We’ve already found leads on a couple of wish items for some of the older kids – they’re going to love their gifts.”

 

Dean smiles, and the light in his eyes is one that Sam’s not sure he’s ever seen. When Dean and Castiel share a long look that’s a conversation in and of itself, Sam has a flash of intuition about where this new interest might lead.

 

“When do we start shopping?,” he asks, careful not to share his budding excitement at what this involvement with orphans could eventually mean.

 

“This weekend?,” Dean asks. “Thought we’d wait till you were here so we can make a family thing of it. Charlie’s coming down for it.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Sam says. “Whoa – hold up – did James’s ugly ass snowmen go to the orphanage too?”

 

“Yeah. The kids turned them into White Walkers – it’s hysterical. We’ll take you by there to see,” Dean says, grinning.

 

“I can’t wait,” Sam says. He really can’t, he realizes. Matter of fact, he’d insist they go now, but Castiel is watching the film with a focused intensity.

 

“Dean, are you sure this is the film?,” Castiel asks. “It’s not very realistic.”

 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes, Cas. I’m sure.” He looks over at Sam. “Figured it was time he saw the film that inspired Meg to call him Clarence.”

 

“You haven’t seen this before?,” Sam asks Cas.

 

Cas shakes his head. “This is my first real Christmas,” he says. “When I was human before, this wasn’t a fun time for me.”

 

Dean’s mouth twists, and he raises Cas’s hand to his lips and murmurs something softly. Cas shakes his head and Dean kisses his temple. Sam averts his eyes, but he knows what they’re talking about, and he feels the grief of that season too.

 

“Why don’t I go make some popcorn,” he offers, keeping his eyes on the television as he stands and stretches. “Then we can start the film over and have the full experience.”

 

“Sounds good, Sammy,” Dean says, his voice thick.

 

Sam nods and walks from the room without looking back. He’ll give them their moment while he takes his own.

 

+

 

Castiel keeps the kitchen well stocked, and Sam quickly locates fresh popcorn and sets up popper. Once it’s going, he sets out the large wooden tray they’d found at Goodwill and stacks a set of plastic holiday bowls and napkins on it. Cold beers from the fridge, licorice for Dean’s nasty habit, and a bowl of mixed fruit for himself and Cas round out the spread. The fresh popcorn goes into a faux-movie-bucket bought just for this purpose. He throws a few small bags of m&ms onto the tray too.

 

He plasters a smile on his face and carries the tray into the living room, smiling for real when he sees Dean and Castiel cuddled together, doing that forehead touching thing that they like to do when they think no one’s watching.

 

Sam clears his throat, and they pull apart. Dean quickly clears the coffee table so that Sam can set the tray down.

 

“You remembered!,” Dean exclaims, grabbing the licorice.

 

Sam shakes his head and laughs. “Only you eat that crap.” He’s smiling when he says it, though, and Dean clearly doesn’t care, biting off a huge hunk and chewing it with his mouth open.

 

Sam and Castiel share an amused look. “Okay, let’s get this party started,” Dean announces, pressing play.

 

They all settle in to watch the film. As the familiar score begins, Sam looks around the room. Dean and Castiel are hand-in-hand, curled up together on the sofa; the tree that they all decorated together is twinkling; and Sam’s settled in a chair that’s perfect for his size (for once). Despite Jody’s absence, Sam feels a sense of contentment deep in his soul. He likes it a lot.

 

+

 

They’re about five minutes into the film when the doorbell rings. Dean’s off the couch and at the door before Sam can fully register what's going on.

 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you—“ Cas is saying when Dean opens it.

 

It’s Steve and James. “Are we too late for the movie?,” Steve asks. “Cas said –”

 

“No, no,” Dean says (much more graciously than Sam expected). “C’mon in.”

 

The two walk in, and James thrusts a large bowl at Dean. “We brought popcorn.”

 

“Thanks?,” Dean offers, setting the bowl on the coffee table beside their tray of goodies. “I’ll grab you both a beer – or water?”

 

“Beer,” James answers shortly.

 

“Beer’s fine, Dean. Thanks,” Steve says.

 

“Have a seat,” Cas says. “There’s room for all of us on the couch, I think.”

 

“I’m better on the floor,” James answers. Steve takes the corner opposite from Cas, and James settles in front of his partner, his back against Steve's legs.

 

When Dean comes back carrying beverages, he doesn’t blink at the seating arrangements – and, again, Sam’s impressed with this shift in the couples’ dynamics.

 

Dean hands out the drinks, takes his seat beside Cas, and starts the film over. ( _Again_ )

 

George has just discovered what happened to Old Man Gower without his childhood interference when Sam glances over at the sofa. James has claimed the seat between Dean and Steve after all. Castiel and Dean are holding hands, as they often do, and Steve and James are too.

 

Sam notices, though, that James can see Dean’s thumb tracing idle patterns on Cas’s hand. Then he realizes that Dean can see James cradling Steve’s hand in both of his.

 

“Idiots,” Sam mutters under his breath. He consoles himself with the knowledge that neither Steve nor Castiel will endorse a public-displays-of-affection competition….

 

Right? . . .

 

+

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for not posting this earlier. I was terribly sick Christmas week and between that and traveling, had little writing/editing time and unreliable internet access until a couple of days ago. 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this fic, and I hope that you all enjoy reading this belated bit of holiday cheer. I do plan to come back to this 'verse - I have ideas for at least two short installments - but dare not speculate about posting days. Sooner rather than later, I hope! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and Happy New Year!


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